My Jedi Brother
by FallenTwilight
Summary: A young Padawan contemplates the meaning of friendship and brotherhood while confronting his destiny during the Jedi Temple siege.


My Jedi Brother.

"C'mon, children, hurry. There is no time."

I cough into the sleeve of my tunic and try to follow the direction of the voice. The smoke is thick, a dense fog preventig me from seeing more than a few handspans in front of me. If the smoke is thick than the demeanor of the temple is even heavier. Emotions run high: fear, anger, surprise, resentment; it isn't that clear, that black and white to me. All the Jedi that are fleeing try to supress these feelings and that's why they are unclear. Why they are muffled.

I try to banish my own growing fear. But it's near impossible. I have so many questions and very few anwsers. I do know some things, though. I know that there was an attack on the Jedi Temple. That the clone troopers have turned on us, turned against us. But that's about it. I don't know why and that seems to be the biggest question. And who can explain the wounds on some of the bodies? How it does not appear that blaster fire has ripped mercilessly through them. No, how it is the sharp, precise cuts of a lightsaber--the weapon of a Jedi-- that had ended my friends, my Masters, my defenders lives.

I have heard rumors. The Masters have tried, in vain, I think, to quiet them. Trying to silence the stories. Silence the truth. At this I can only shake my head at the grown ups who always think were too little, too young, too inexperienced to handle the truth. The stories: of Depa, or Sora. Jedi Knights somehow gone wrong, gone dark. Every Jedi knew of Dooku, how he left the Order years ago and only recently turned up as the leader of the Seperatists. What many didn't know was that Dooku was dark, and not only that, but he was Sith. That was the deepest betrayal one could commit. To turn into everything the Jedi stood against. To become the sworn enemy of the Jedi: the Dark Lords of the Sith.

None of them had dared attack the temple. But I can see why this would be seen as an opportune time. Yoda was gone, battling on Kasshyk. Master Windu also had left the Temple. Kenobi and Skywalker were absent as well. Did they even have a chance? Was this the day the Jedi Order would fall? Such concepts are beyond me. I cant even imagine. Enough. I shouldn't be thinking these things. They are not Jedi thoughts.

I have to try to find my group. I think I'm lost. I pause a moment to consider this and inwardly smile. Grimly. How could I possibly be lost in the Temple? In my home? I'm not lost. I know exactly where I am. What I don't know is where my group has gone. That's who I've lost. The fog is clearing and I exhale in relief.

Too soon.

Luckily this hallway is empty of troopers and Jedi alike because I don't want anyone to see. I sink to my knees and throw up the contents of my last meal. Correlian nausages and greens. Muja fruit for dessert. Probably my last meal. I throw up again in sudden nausea and try to rise to my feet. Somehow I manage it. Trembling, I look down at the body of my best friend; her body torn by blasterfire, her lekku twisted beneath her head, her violet eyes open and wide, her pouty lips that I can remember grinning so often frozen in a collective gasp. Her lightsaber is in her hand still, her grip is tight around it.

"Oh, no. No..." my voice trails off. I have no words to express my grief.

I pry the hilt out of her lifeless hand and study it. I don't know why. Perhaps I hope that a focusing exercise could stop the tears from falling. To stop me from feeling.

It doesn't and they don't. My tears don't tremble on the precipe of my lids for long. They fall freely and I don't want to stop them. Why shouldn't I mourn my friend? I can't stop thinking about her, all the good times that we shared. I cannot believe that life is over. That her life is over. She had just built this, her first lightsaber. She had just been chosen by a Master, just a standard month ago. She had her whole life ahead of her. Now, she would forever be twelve years old. Mere remains. No longer the friend that I played with, teased, loved: gone.

I grab hold of the Force with a disturbingly powerful grip until it fills me completely. Until I am the Force. I try to let go, to accept it. Accept her death as the will of the Force.

I open my eyes and as I look down beside her and see her newly chosen master slain beside her; who had probably died in her defense, the Force leaves me and I can't lie to myself and say I've suceeded.

I hook her weapon to a loop on my belt, take one last goodbye look to my friend and run from the scene.

I avoid contact with clone troopers, darting in and out of view. Even this young, at eleven standard years of age, the Jedi have taught me a thing or two about stealth. The troopers don't even know I'm here. I'm like a shadow, a ghost, a slippery Jedi wraith that they cannot see to kill.

The halls are eerily silents. Which I think is even worse than the noise.

Once, I ran into a squad of clone troppers. I peered into their thoughts. Their minds are ordered and disciplined but they are still human. One thinks: I need a good reason to give this trigger a squeeze. I couldn't have defeated them by myself I didn't. The Force helped me and I survived. They did not.

I hear the distant, distinct slash-hum of lightsabers doing battle with each other. Not pausing to think, and probably against my better judgment, I run to the source of the sound.

I hear also, as I approach, the sounds of running water. It's the soft, soothing, cool rush of water from the Room of a Thousand Fountains. In my eleven or so years at the Temple this room has always represented peace and the inner tranquility that delving into Jedi meditations brings me. The memory of that serenity evaporates in wake of the events that take place before my eyes.

I sneak quietly in and try to remain inconspicuous behind one of the fountains. Crouching down I watch the duel unfold. I don't recognize the alien Jedi Knight fighting the cloaked being. The Jedi are thousands in number and together we are a big extended family. He would be the equivalenth of a brother's girlfriends mother-in-law's son's cousin. That is, if Jedi had such attachments. I don't know him and I don't have too. He is family and that is all that matters; that and the fact that this cloaked-and probably Sith- monster is trying to kill him.

There's nothing I can do. Despair feeds on my heart and it makes a good meal. I can feel the dark power radiating off this being. It is too much for me. Maybe too much for the Jedi facing him. A nagging thought tugs at my mind. His power... it seems familiar somehow. But not right. Distorted. Yet still familiar.

I also sense the waning strength of the Jedi. He is putting up a good fight but I get the feeling that the dark man is only toying with him.

They parry and riposte back and forth, each move countered by the other like playful banter between friends. This is not friendly in the least. Their swings and slashes create complex manuevers in the air. Their back swings destroy fountains, shattering glass and making the water spill; they must now struggle to keep their balance. Green light and blue light flash. I dare not blink. The footwork is intricate and flawless until...

The dark Jedi feints a sweep, aiming for just below the Jedi's knees. The Jedi jumps, aided by the Force. With a simple, lethal manipulation of the Force, the cloaked one pushes into the Jedi, off balances him, and impales him to the floor mercilessly on his blade of light.

I stare numbly, my jaw locked against tears and mind-blinding rage. I think: Odd, for this dark warrior to wield a blade of light. I try to keep my bile down and I swallow a lump in my throat.

The warrior pauses, breathing deeply.

Inhale.

Exhale.

I hold my breath.

He presses the activation plate on his weapon and it shuts down.

I wonder why he stands there, just breathing and wonder why I am not what I am. A scared little youngling whose lost his way. I find myself, instead, eager with anticipation to discover this man's identity; I remain in my hiding place. I sense that though he radiates darkness, there is a conflict within him, a sad, melancholy resignation.

His head is down and he sharply looks up, immediatly peering in my direction. Too late, I realize, that if I can sense him than he can sense me.

The hood to his cloak is still raised as he walks slowly and carefully towards me. Gulping, I gather my reserves of courage, grap the lightsaber off my belt and stand so that I'm in view of the intruder.

I want to strike him down. I see him, black as night, and I want to end his life. I can't pretend it's because of some lofty idea of Jedi justice, no. I hate him because he killed my friends, Jedi, and others too.

I exhale and with it I let go of that thought. Atleast I try to. It's wrong. Not worthy of me.

He is so much taller than me.

"You should have followed the others to safety," he says, "You might have had a chance, then."

That voice...I look into his eyes, those different yet familiar eyes and I know.

Thiis monster is, or once was, Anakin Skywalker. My friend. This monster who had just slain a member of my family. This terrible truth eats away at my will and corrodes the Force protection that I've created to help me.

"Anakin..." I splutter, "I, I'm lost."

So are you, I think.

Anakin Skywalker, the legendary Hero Without Fear, the passionate half of the Kenobi/Skywalker team, is my friend. From my early days as a youngling, Anakin has been there for me. He was like an older brother in the way he looked out for me, doted on me; bringing me candy and small tokens and trinkets from worlds he had visited on missions with Obi-Wan. His treatment of me made me feel special and I valued our friendship. I even nurtured a secret hope that when the time came, when Anakin became a Knight and when I was of age, he'd choose me as his Padawan Learner.

Then the war happened.

I curse this sith-spawned war. It has changed my friend into a creature of darkness. I have no biological family. Most Jedi are taken from their homes as infants. Anakin Skywalker is as close to a brother as I will ever come. My Jedi brother.

He nods and I look desperately for any shred of the man I knew. I meet his eyes for the second time. They are not light blue but striated with yellow and gray. Red-rimmed, as if he'd been crying.

He ignites his lightsaber and holds it a millimeter from my forehead. We are so close. I'm pretty sure he can feel my ragged breathing on the bare skin of his fleshly arm.

I know he is about to end my life. He is trembling, teetering on the edge of unstability. He's angry, I feel, at the price he is paying. He doesn't want to kill me, I sense. There is some deeper, emotional attachment that is impelling him toward these gross acts.

"I haven't done anything," I whisper. My breath comes short as the unspoken _yet_ hangs in the air between us.

"No, you're right. You haven't." There is no compassion in his voice, his expression. His brows are drawn together, his nose crinkled, his features composed in an angry scowl. I can't associate this troubled, misguided killer with the compassionate, loyal, JediI had known.

"But you will," he says sadly with conviction.

"How can you think--"

"I'm the Chosen One. This is my destiny. Now you must meet yours." He lifted his weapon high above my head.

"I'm sorry," he says desperately, trying to make me understand, "but I've been ordered not to show mercy."

Shaking my head in resignation I gather my calm with the Force and draw it close so that it envelops me. I've never felt as strong with the Force as I do now and I prepare to meet the Force.

It's okay.

I accept it.


End file.
